Neither of us had realized what was different until the guy next to us at the bar said "Do you hear any loud rock music?"
There was none.
Which is why we had been able to eavesdrop on his fascinating conversations with his friend on his left about the 32 years at the Daily News working delivery...
...his neighbor on his right about the 1950's magazines he found in the trash right next door...
...and then finally turning to us about how the neighborhood had gone downhill it wasn't a neighborhood anymore and all these expensive restaurants how the hell can you eat with all that noise...
...and then his neighbor on his right joined in...
...and soon we were all talking, complaining, comparing, and one-upping...
"I got my mother's old New Yorkers."
"My mother IS an old New Yorker."
...Because that's what New Yorkers do. Talk to anyone anywhere we are. Like here at this old West Village establishment where it is quiet enough to taste to hear to connect.
